


New does not mean bad

by Gabriel_Sammys_Angel



Category: MCU, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Bucky, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt Bucky, Hurt/Comfort, Natasha is a good friend, Natasha is good, Post cw, pos civil war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 05:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21369250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriel_Sammys_Angel/pseuds/Gabriel_Sammys_Angel
Summary: It had been a rather long day- cross that out, week- for the former assassin and he just stormed into the kitchen, a mug of coffee in his hands and his eyes narrowed slightly. He was having a headache, his back hurt, the fucking arm annoyed him and he had not had any sleep in days. Bucky had been overworking himself with training again and was just a tad bit aggressive which proved as he slammed the cup to the ground as he hit his toe on a chair, swearing in Russian.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, platonic - Relationship
Kudos: 19





	New does not mean bad

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This Beautiful work of art is written by me and someone else. I sadly could not get hang of them but if you read this and you think this might have been us? Shoot me a message I will credit you and or take it down if you want that!  
Started out as a roleplay and god I was in love with that idea!

It had been a rather long day- cross that out, week- for the former assassin and he just stormed into the kitchen, a mug of coffee in his hands and his eyes narrowed slightly. He was having a headache, his back hurt, the fucking arm annoyed him and he had not had any sleep in days. Bucky had been overworking himself with training again and was just a tad bit aggressive which proved as he slammed the cup to the ground as he hit his toe on a chair, swearing in Russian.

Even without her habit of listening too hard to the things around her, Natasha would have heard him come in. Or stomp in. She'd been minding her own business, but raised an eyebrow at the commotion and gave it a second before she cleared her throat and sat up straight, peering over the back of the couch at him. Glancing from the floor back up to his face, she bit back a joke and got up. He didn't look in the mood. Natasha wasn't a stranger to cleaning up messes, busying herself by crouching and collecting the pieces of broken mug from the ground. "If I didn't know better," She mumbled. "I would say there was something on your mind, James. Just a hunch."

And oh how he did flinch at the mention of his real name, frowning and scowling before he let out a low growl, leaning against the counter and watching her. “I am fine, Natasha.” he almost snapped, his voice deep and the angry clearly leaking through, not that he really tried to hide it or anything.   
It was not the first time the winter soldier seemed to be in such a sour mood, he often was- at least as of lately. He made no move to help her with his mess, simply leaning against the counter as he had before. But if you would take a closer look you could see the way he had clenched his flesh hand to a fist, trembling a little, his metal hand pressed tight against his thigh.

Continuing to collect the pieces until she was satisfied she'd got them all, she gave a little huff. "You sound very fine. Silly me." It wasn't her business to pry - in an environment like this they all had their bad days. People needed their space, she understood that better than anyone. Regardless, in some ways she couldn't help herself when it came to watching him, cataloging silently the ways in which they seemed eerily symmetrical sometimes. Credit where due, she'd done worse than smashed a few mugs in her adjustment period. She didn't flinch when one of the fragments sliced a little gash in her hand as it fell into the bin, instead moving across to the other side of the counter with her chin in her hands opposite him. "You still swear in Russian. Subconscious or choice? It's fine if you don't know yet."

This took him by surprise, the question about the language he chose to say bad words in. But it was a complex one after all. If he was in a good mood- heck when was he ever? When he was at least alright then he chose to swear in Russian once Steve was around, just to mess with him because of the whole ´don't use bad words´ thing they had going on and sometimes Bucky just relished in the fact he could still rile Steve up by using words where the other would not know their true meaning or was very unlikely to do so. But right now? He was not sure- had he really used Russian swear words? Seems like it. Then it definitely was subconscious, not that he cared. As much as he hated that language he often used it, just for himself because it was some sort of quiet place- it probably did not make any sense so he would not even attempt to explain it, not to anyone. Not even to her, who should understand it better than anyone. He had been staring at her blankly for the past two minutes and only now snapped out of it. “I do.” he simply agreed to her first statement.

Natasha waited on the answer. For all her faults, patience was a quality she'd learned well. Her glance strayed between him and the new cut on her palm. Not deep, but enough that after minute one she had to raise it to her mouth to avoid it dripping onto the counter. "You know," She started, after a pause in which it became apparent he was done talking. "When I first got here I'd speak in nothing but Russian. Told myself it was just to be difficult but it was a safety-blanket, albeit one woven from barbed wire." Natasha rolled her eyes and shrugged as if it would make such a rare personal admission any more casual. After a second, she nodded to his fist. "I also used to clench my fists so tight my nails left little moons in my palm. Don't know what's going on with you today, but breathe. Un-tense." As if he needed an example, she straightened her stance and flexed out her own fingers over the counter. "You're okay."

Bucky looked pretty uncomfortable as he listened to her talk, his eyes still narrowed and his nails digging harder into his palm, creating just said little moons until she pointed that out as well and he immediately unclenched his fist, his metal arm gripping against the counter now, his face hard and anger still written all over it. But now it became clear that this anger was not directed at anyone, not really at least. If at all then himself. His breathing was normal but his heartbeat quick and it definitely took some training to learn how to keep breathing like this even if you were stressed or under attack. His eyes now flickered down to the wound he indirectly had caused, eyes darkening immediately and stance straightening. “I am fine- leave me alone,” he wanted to say but all that came out was a strangled noise, his throat tight with tears that already burned in his eyes. Bucky was quick the swallow and glance away, trying to get himself back under control, he could do that. But sometimes... you just did not want to anymore. His metal hand loosened its grip and he dropped his shoulders, anger making room for exhaustion.

Whilst she was old enough to know there was no real merit in being stoic, old habits died hard. Natasha clenched her jaw involuntarily as she watched him move, lips parting to say more until she closed them again without speaking a word. Again, there was a symmetry in it - the way for all either of them could choose to speak (or not), ultimately their body language always gave more away by sheer fact of how well they could suppress it on a good day. She tried not to stare, already feeling like an intruder in this display of vulnerability, but it proved too much. Throat suddenly drier than she'd have liked, Natasha's fingers twitched before she remembered how little she enjoyed a lack of warning. "...Left hand." She mumbled, reaching out slowly and letting her fingers brush the metal of his knuckles before she closed her hand around his and gave it a squeeze. "Talk to me. Tell me what you need."

And he was more glad about the warning he got than he would ever like to admit out loud, his posture relaxing a little as she touched him. As much as he hated to be touched in any kind of way he was touch starved to a point where he leaped up all the contact he could get. It was rather pathetic, really but as of now a thing he needed. He took a deep breath in order not to freak out over the whole situation, her words only now reaching his ears. He definitely had developed an auditory issue over the past weeks and months, spacing out and while he did hear the words they did not progress until minutes later. It happened for too often for his taste. Tears still fighting to stay in as he shock his head. He did not know what he needed. He never really knew anymore.

Natasha tilted her head, watching his responses and ready to pull her hand back at the slightest indication he didn't want it there. To some surprise, she found the opposite. Her thumb stroked over his knuckles as she swallowed, hard, trying not to make it visible how much seeing him like this affected her. Once again, her actions spoke for her. Her lips parted, trying for a moment but just croaking before she was able to get the words out. "...Right hand." She managed just as she was weaving her fingers between his on the other hand. A beat before she tried again, getting out a "Barnes..." But only shaking her head before the wires in her head crossed in an attempt to find the most efficient way of getting to him without letting go of him."Torso," Natasha muttered as her knee was suddenly up on the counter, climbing it and crawling across to wrap her arms around him and fold his head against her shoulder. "You're okay."

The relief that washed through him was something he had not felt to this extreme since he had seen Steve be all healthy and alive even in that time, it had quickly worn off though, clouded with how much Damage he had done. His breathing hitched in his throat and while he desperately tried to get himself back under control, be the good little soldier at least part of him was, he found himself to fall apart against her shoulder, Pressing his face against the fabric of her Shirt as if he was to hide from the world, no words making their way out of his throat.

There was a part of herself she'd tried to drown that knew how to hold him, but the muscle memory was stronger than will. She found she was unable to stay tense for more than a few seconds, softening against him as a hand moved up to cradle the back of his head. Her fingers wove themselves into his hair by themselves, letting out her own shuddering breath with the relief of how much easier this was in practice than it was in her head. People like them didn't hug, but not because they didn't enjoy it. It had taken her years to realize the only reason she didn't was because on her worse days, she felt like she didn't deserve it with all the things she'd done. Natasha tilted her head, resting her cheek atop his hair and holding him tight to her chest. "" It came out in the language they reluctantly shared, Natasha not realizing in time to correct herself but not wincing at the sound of it anymore. ""

And that had exactly been the problem, why he had not managed to reach out sooner, why he had not been able to suppress these feelings anymore and why they had escalated like they did. (Sure it could have been worse he had been very close to jumping Steve only a few hours ago), but still, this was bad enough. Because people like him, they did not deserve any act of kindness, because people- no monsters- like him all they did deserve was suffering and self hate and no empathy from no one. But all of these thoughts came to a crashing halt when the women wrapped her arms around the soldier and her hands had found their way into his hair, it soothed him. Soothed the inner beast like she had with someone else before. A sigh of relief left him as he went almost limp in her embrace, careful of his weight so they would not trip over but limp enough for her to see and feel that all signs of an attack from his side were gone now. >It´s hard< He finally replied in that very same language.

Natasha was strong but there was a size difference. In combat, they were evenly matched. In this, it was harder. She felt his weight but forced herself, pressed between him and the counter, to take it. She straightened her back, locked her knees, and actively pushed back against him in a nonverbal confirmation that he was safe to stop holding back. "" Not better. For all the ways they'd both been lied to and manipulated, she couldn't lie to him. Natasha wasn't 'better', she would always be 'Natasha' with all the caveats that entailed, but she could be Natasha now... "<...Easier. It's going to get easier. I promise.>" She found herself tilting her head down, stopping before she could complete the motion but in a frozen pause. Asshe thought it over, Natasha breathed out a long sigh. "Head," She warned, before pressing a light kiss to the top of his between the brushes of her fingertips. "You're not alone in this. Whether you need someone to punch or someone to hold you, it's just a few words away."

And he completely broke at that, no longer able to contain the sobs and the tears that now fought their way down his cheeks, hot and messy and he did not like it, not at all. His voice broke as he tried to answer. This whole display was pitiful and pathetic, really. He was meant to be an assassin, a warrior he- He pressed his face against her some more and just cried. It was not the first time the man of the winter, like Thor called him, cried but it was the first time in centuries that anyone was allowed to see.  
It took him a while to calm back down but once he did he pressed close to her some more and just soaked up the warmth and support, his arms finally wrapping around her as well, returning the somewhat hug for a couple of seconds before he found himself pulling away again. >Thank you<. He whispered in their shared language, his voice softer now again, the anger gone.

The crying wasn't mutual. Instead she tensed slightly on feeling his body shudder with the sobs. Natasha willed herself to cry with him, to let this happen. It was normal, human, and yet somehow a goal she still couldn't reach. In some ways she envied him; it was something she wished she was brave enough to do, but as herself the best she could muster was to rock him slightly, cooing and hushing him as if that would help. Some things just needed to run their course. "" It surprised her how much she'd enjoyed being hugged back, only realizing when he was pulling away. Pushing it aside, she cradled his jaw between her palms and wordlessly brushed her thumbs up under his eyes to wipe away the tears. Natasha let his face rest in her hands for a moment, taking it in before she leaned in to kiss his forehead. "You're doing well, you know? We all get hurt. Just generally take it out on the sandbags, not the chinaware."

This was good, it felt so very good to him, healed him if only a little. He pressed his head against her palms as subtle as he could, trying to soak it all up. The warmth, the affection, everything.  
>I will try so< he still replied in Russian simply because the words came quicker to him, at least for now. English might be his mother tongue but he had learned Russian for so long he sometimes could not separate it anymore. He now fully pulled away and silently went over to their first aid kit and got out a medical strip for her and applied it to the small cut with a calmness he usually did not have about him. “I am sorry for hurting you,” was what he wanted to say, not able to form the words he hoped she understood the gesture.

Natasha didn't try to hold onto him when he pulled back, much as she'd have liked to. It had been a process for her and she had to respect that it might be the same for him. Cradling her now empty palms between each other, her first assumption was that she'd overstayed her physical welcome before he returned and began to patch her up in a way that was somehow more intimate than any of the hugging. Natasha was silent but open to it, letting him cover it over and brushing her free fingers over the strip appreciatively before she reached out to brush her fingers through his hair again. "Thank you. Didn't have to do that." Watching him in silence, she let her mouth curl into a smile. "Doing well," She repeated, softly. "Promise you that much. You're allowed to be angry but you're doing so well." 'So much better than me', she thought but didn't say.  
Bucky sighed and glanced at her, his eyes not darkened by Anger any more. "You should see my room." he then said with a forced laugh. "It is a mess." he admitted and shock his head, "I lashed out before."

She huffed out a more relaxed chuckle, shaking her head. "Mine was... sterile. The opposite. I didn't know how to deal with my own space so I just didn't touch it. Not sure which is worse." With a little shrug, she rolled her eyes. "People like us tend to operate in extremes, I suppose. If you don't like the mess I can help, but tell me when to stop." Natasha's own features softened at his last admission and she shook her head again, furrowing her brow. "No, no -- Don't apologize. You're human. I only got hurt because I'm..." Concerned? Invested? "...Nosey. Sorry I pushed you. Bad habit."

He blinked and listened to her, trying to understand These words. Then he nodded and slowly reached out to touch her face with his flesh hand. "I do..uh I think I would like a hug every now and then." He admitted although it was obvious how hard it was for him to admit it. "And it probably would do you some good as well:"

It wasn't something she was proud of but it was instinctual, her cheek pressing against his hand as a reflex as she moved closer. "We're talking about you," She muttered, aware of the irony but firm enough that he knew it was a warning. In spite of her words, she let her fingers rest over the wrist attached to the hand on her cheek, stroking it lightly. Natasha met his eyes with hers, gaze fond as her smile wavered from the effort of keeping itself small. "That said, I'm... Always receptive to that-- the contact. Whenever you need it." Her fingers crept up until they were on the back of his hand, almost holding it in place with an apologetic smile. "I'm human. Lots of us need to be touched every so often."

And he was glad she hold up the contact like she did, mumbling something About how he wasn't human but quickly stopped again as he realized that he had no Energy left to discuss this very subject. His eyes scanned her face for a Moment before he relaxed a little again.

If she was anyone else she might have missed it, but she wasn't. Natasha's features creased with concern as he muttered, leaning a little closer to try to hear him before conceding that he was too quiet. Her thumb brushed over the back of his hand again, face turning in his hold to kiss his palm lightly as she considered whether or not to broach it. They rarely did things by accident - anything she was meant to hear he'd have made sure she could. "Talk to me." She tried instead. The hand still in his hair curled forwards to mirror his so his cheek was in her palm. "What's going on in here?" She muttered, tapping her finger up against his forehead.

"Too much," he admitted, now back to Talking english. "Too much.." he repeated himself and shock his head with a small frown. "Things I can not even words. Things I will beat myself up later… " he said out flatly and then leaned into her embrace again.

It gave her pause, trying hard not to look at him with too much concern so as not to make him self conscious. She pressed her lips against his palm again before she shifted her cheek back into it to better watch his face. "Try me," She said, quiet but firm. "Whatever it is, whatever you're thinking... I promise it's not going to scare me." Sometimes, though, she didn't want to talk. It only occurred to her after the words were out of her mouth that maybe he was the same. Natasha let her fingers brush over his jaw as she leaned her cheek closer to his palm. "Or don't..." It was softer this time. "Sorry. You don't have to. Not going anywhere either way."

Bucky studied her face for any signs f mockery but once found None he gave her a small but honest smile. "i Chose the second Option for now. " Because Right now he was everything but Ready to talk..   
But he really seemed to like physical affection, lapping up all the Attention he was getting.

Natasha nodded, understanding. In the back of her mind, she knew she'd have to pull away at some point - both of them would. Immediately, though, she was content. More than content, verging on cozy. She didn't like to admit to herself how right he'd been about how good the contact was for her, but it didn't stop it being true. "Heard you stub your toe..." She started when the silence got too close to being comfortable. It was idle chatter but enough to give her something to focus on that wasn't how warm he was. "Slippers. You ought to get slippers. Like shoes but for inside. Keep you safe."

And just as he was about to question what these so called slippers were she explained and he gave a thoughtful nod but then decided against it with a quick head shake. “No,” the reply was firm and left no room for further discussion. He simply did not like this whole adjustment thing. He was really difficult around food, suspicions whenever they had yet another “new” dish and usually ended up not eating anything but for him food was only fuel anyway, Nothing to enjoy- not anymore that is.   
“No fan of even more new stuff.”

She bit her lip, nodding as she considered his statement. "Technically," She tried, "This? What we're doing now. In full view. This is 'new'." To punctuate her point she danced her fingers over his skin and pursed her lips. "You're not a fan of this? Because I can stop." Natasha raised an eyebrow, trying not to smirk. "New can be good. Scary but good. I know you're brave enough for slippers."

He let out a soft grumbling noise and squinted at her before he leaned against her again and yawned softly. “You are not wrong,” he then admitted reluctantly. “But also not entirely right either. I don't like shoes and wont wear them inside the house.” He said with an almost stubborn frown. “And I know this is new but it uh- feels good-”

Natasha let out a pleased hum, hugging him to her again and leaning up onto her tiptoes to get closer. She told herself it didn't need saying, that it was pointless, but it did something to her to hear it from him out loud. He deserved the same kind of reassurance. "This is good for me too." She said softly as she wrapped her arms around him again. "You might have been onto something. Maybe." His little spiel was enough for her to break into a grin. It was the most he'd said in one go that she'd heard in a long time. Even if it was just about slippers, she'd take it. Natasha breathed out a little chuckle. "You run pretty warm for someone who used to have 'Winter' in their title. Not complaining, just observing."

He laughed at that, his eyes searching for hers again before he nodded and leaned into her touch once again, quiet affectionate. “Mhn, I know. I have always had a warm body temperature.” he replied and then it was over. He was not in the mood to talk much more, it really was a rarity that the former winter soldier would talk this much, usually more an observer.

She nodded, biting back her grin again as she mumbled mostly to herself. "...Funny. I always ran cold." However true it was, as much as anything it was an excuse. He didn't seem to need her away, and she found she wanted to be there. Still on her toes, Natasha ducked her head under his chin against his chest and curled her arms a little tighter around him. Silent again, she caught herself being comfortable in it once more. This time, though, she let herself be. Natasha closed her eyes and leaned into him.

At this the man wrapped his arms around her and simply pulled her close against his body. A body made to fight and serve and kill with broad shoulders and strong arms and legs, a flat stomach and abs. He was meant to kill, all sharp and dangerous...  
With a soft sigh he pecked her forehead like she had done for him and then pulled away only to glance into their fridge. “Eggs?” he asked her because eggs and toast was something Bucky was comfortable with and could prepare for the both of them. He knew she had enjoyed their embrace too but he was starting to get a little overwhelmed again and had to get away for a Moment, Fighting the dangerous thoughts away.

Natasha could have purred, finding that she could fit perfectly against said edges in a way that felt natural. It was soft enough that her thoughts were out of focus, his comment being the only thing that drew her back to reality and even then with a delay that would otherwise have made her cringe. "Mmm? Oh." She leaned up into the peck but apparently misunderstood his proposal, frowning as she looked up at him. Natasha was good at fixing, less accustomed to being looked after. "I'm... Not great at them. Better at burning things. But I can try, if you're hungry."

A smile crept itself on his lips, barely there and very shy as if he were afraid that someone would see his happiness and steal it all away. “No me.” he replied and took the eggs out. While he did not fancy any new things he was very fond of cooking and baking himself- only the things he was comfortable with and only when no one was there but... now he just wanted to prepare something for them. “What kind of eggs do you like?”

With him out of her grip, she struggled to remember what she'd done with her hands before and had to take a minute to get back into her usual stance. Natasha watched him move around and slowly moved beside him to watch. She paused before she leaned up to rest her chin on his shoulder so she could see what he was doing. "All." She said, glancing sideways at him. For all she'd adjusted to, suddenly his comment about slippers seemed very valid. This was new. Good-new perhaps but still weird. "Surprise me?" It was easier than outright asking for something from a friend.

Bucky was no five-star cook but being used to do so for Steve and himself back in the forties. He was quick to prepare two plates of scrambled eggs, spicing them up with bell pepper and tomato, salt and a pinch of pepper. He was confident enough around this subject , cooking for someone else than Steve was new and different though and he let out a soft growl in a moment where he felt overwhelmed again, his metal hand clenching against the counter again, then he got himself back under control and set the plates on the counter.

Natasha watched closely in silence, appreciating how naturally something so domestic seemed to come to him. It was warming. She couldn't avoid noticing the way he tensed, though, a hand brushing over his fist when it closed as she inched a little closer to him. This time he seemed to recover faster, Natasha smiling to herself as she followed him over to the plates and began to pick at what he'd prepared. Her silence stayed for a while as she ate, eyes flicking up occasionally to check his face as a little smirk played on her lips. "...Always assumed they were supposed to be black, but these are much better than mine. Thank you."

Oh the silence was just the right edge between uncomfortable and still comfortable with no pressure to talk or interrupt it in any other way, he liked it. “Hm? I bet so.” he replied with a small grin himself. After they had both cleaned their plates he took them and put them into the sink next to a couple of mugs. “It is one of the only dishes I am able to prepare.” he seemed a little more talkative again. It was different. he usually always got urged to talk and asked too many questions but here? 

There was no pressure at all. Healing was not necessarily a one rushed trip- no, it often came in small steps.  
One step at a time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment or kudo or anything! I always love seeing and hearing that people like what I have written!  
Stay safe everyone and remember that I am always here to talk.


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